I thought instead of spending nine hours composing posts for the very tidbitiest tidbits of anything I have to write, I’d combine them into a TIDBIT EXTRAVAGANZA.

The internet access at home has been less than subservient this week. This disturbs me greatly. I fear that maybe the neighbors from whom I borrow broadband access may have moved their computer. If someone wants to buy legitimate Comcast for me, I will give them a kiss. On the cheek. As a friend.

When Ethel came home to me, I noticed with great glee and also maybe some cooing that she has some chow-chow-reminiscent purple spots at the back of her tongue. Imagine my freckled joy upon discovering that they’ve spread to the front of the tongue, too. I am assuming that she does not have dog flu and that the freckles’ only purpose is to make me giggle. It’s working thus far.

I bought some new hairbands at Walmart a few weeks ago as those clear Goody ones are impossible to find and also, at $3 per 100, kind of expensive for disappearing elastic. The new elastics, as Westerners are wont to call them, are black and do the job. But also freak me the heck on out when found on my bed and when resembling a big furry tarantula. “Big” means “rubberband-sized” and “furry” means “with a piece of my hair still attached” and “tarantula” means “rubberband-sized rubberband with a piece of my hair still attached.”

Then Jana up and moved to Austin and ruined my life because now that she’s in Austin, how are we ever going to be friends? I mean, really, I thought this friendship could really work when she lived in a location where I did not live and where we communicated mostly online and sometimes on the phone. But what now that she lives in an entirely new place where the only ways I’ll communicate with her are online and sometimes on the … oh wait. This does not affect me in any way whatsoever. However, it does fill me with great memories of the awesome awkwardness of moving out on my own … and it helps me to respect Jana even more for doing what she thinks she ought to be doing with her life. And that is respectable. Go to Texas and visit with her and also: Dear Jana’s hair, don’t be frizzy. Humidity is a jerk. Love, Ashley.

Guess who turned eight months old on Monday? I asked several times, but all she said she wanted was for me to have lots of money and also a husband and also some babies. Make it happen.

Because eight-month-old puppies love nothing other than going to the park, to continue the tradition of the previous four months, we went to the dog park. When I drive into the parking lot, it is all she can do to refrain from bursting into gospel choir renditions of the Hallelujah Chorus. She harnesses the energy from the depth of her soul, which I’m certain she’d hand over in a heartbeat if it came between her and the complete and utter and ALSO PENULTIMATE WONDERMENT that attends a session of feeling up some other dogs something awful. On this particular Monday, Gus the great dane came ambling across the field and straight to Ethel where I thought to myself how the conversation must be going and none of the words mattered because Gus’s voice was just the perfect combination of the depth of Robert’s from Everybody Loves Raymond and the energy of Underdog’s. Something deep within me is sweetly satisfied when Ethel takes him by the neck and slams all the daneness of Gus’s greatness straight onto the wood-chipped ground.

Monday evening, the Jacksons, two Holes, and I went to Temple Square in Salt Lake City. Or, as Eadie has been calling it, Triangle Square. Which is funny. Because, get it? Two shapes? Hahaha. She’s a genius. We spent some nice time wandering around and looking at all the displays and also telling each child at one time or another to get off of one thing or another.

But then Eadie wrapped it all up by reading a story about Dora and Boots from the Book of Mormon in Cambodian. You saw it first here.